


Rejection

by GhostClimber



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Dark, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, References to Depression, Rejection, introspective
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:55:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25588657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GhostClimber/pseuds/GhostClimber
Summary: Xanxus has not-so-delicately hit on Squalo.And he left. For three damn months.Xanxus, now, is alone with his own thoughts.
Relationships: Superbi Squalo/Xanxus
Comments: 6
Kudos: 16





	Rejection

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Paulina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Paulina/gifts).



Stay tonight,  
we'll watch the full moon rising,  
hold on tight.  
The Sky is breaking...

I don't ever want to be alone  
with all my darkest dreaming,  
hold me close.

[David Sylvian, Darkest Dreaming]

Superbi Squalo had eventually returned to the base.  
And he didn't even bother to get himself announced to Xanxus.  
The Boss of the Varia decided not to do anything about it.  
The truth, which he could not spit out, not in a million years, not even if tortured, was that he knew he deserved it.  
Three months prior, right before Squalo left the headquarters, Xanxus had not so delicately hit on him: thinking back, he could recognize that getting yourself slammed against a desk by a drunken man that seemed to have no other purpose than brushing his cock between your cheeks could possibly not be considered as a pleasant experience to be repeated as soon as possible.  
But back then, in the heat of the moment, Xanxus had just let his desire carry him. For a long time afterwards, also, he had blamed Squalo: it was his fault, because he was irresponsible to carry around that fucking perfect ass, and even more since, when something fell on the ground, he bent forward instead of bending his knees.  
To say it clear, a creature like Squalo couldn't expect not to provoke uncontrolled erection if he decided to pose doggy-style just to pick up a goddamn pen.

Sitting in his office, unsure about what to do, Xanxus thought back at their last encounter.

-Boss, that's all.- Squalo said, putting a pile of sheets on Xanxus' desk; the man vaguely asked himself what was written on them. The words seemed to be nothing but curve lines, randomly scribbled down: one of the collateral effects of the uncontrolled intake of alcohol was clearly a resurgence of illiteracy, but so what? He was tormented by the same dream every night since months prior; in said dream, nothing peculiar did happen, but it somehow concerned him.  
He chugged his umpteenth glass of tequila, trying to forget the ethereal vision of Squalo leaning closer to him just to caress one of his cheeks with the back of his hand and to smile at him in such a way that could cause cavity to everyone in a ten kilometres area.  
-Mh.- he muttered to show the bare minimum of attention: he knew that when Squalo suspected he was being ignored he started to blurt his skull-tearing yells, and for the moment being he was just as good with the perspective of the tremendous migraine he was going to get the morning after, caused by the three-bottles-of-tequila hangover. He was already nauseous at the thought.  
-We're only short of the report about the situation in Namimori, the asshole with the tonfas didn't bother to write. I spoke with Bronco, he promised to convince him to send it no later than tomorrow.- Squalo said. He didn't sit down; he seemed to be in a hurry.  
-Why Bronco?- Xanxus asked, suspicious.  
-I don't think you want to know. But if you want, with little effort you can imagine it.- Squalo answered. Xanxus imagined that Hibary guy's tonfas being used in a creative manner and Cavallone tied up to a column with his own bullwhip. A quite pleasant perspective, but not worthy of a further insight. He muttered something again, and Squalo looked at the clock.  
-If you don't need anything else, Boss, I should be going.  
-Go, then.- Xanxus answered. In that moment, the tragedy started to happen.  
Squalo turned around, and the flap of his jacket hit a pen that was already on the verge of falling from the edge of the desk. It fell and hit the carpet with a muffled thud: -VOI! Will you ever remember you own a pen holder?- Squalo asked, then he bent down to gather it.  
The perfect curve of his ass was the spark that ignited Xanxus, who by then was composed for a solid ninety percent of tequila and therefore definitively inflammable: the dreadful Varia Boss quickly lifted himself up his chair, went to the back of Squalo and grabbed his crotch.  
-VOOOIII!- Squalo protested, then his voice died in his throat: all the air had been pushed outside his lungs while Xanxus shoved him against his desk, without leaving his grasp on his virility that, he noticed, was starting to stiffen.  
Xanxus pressed himself against him ad brushed his cock against his bum, then he rudely shoved his trousers down: they were slightly elastic, and that helped him, but not much. Squalo let out a muffled moan of pain, but Xanxus ignored it: soon he would have to deal with much more pain than the one caused by his pants brushing his dick.  
He pushed harder, taking advantage of the much softer cloth of his boxers to shove his erection between his cheeks, then he bit his neck.  
He wasn't expecting Squalo to wriggle out, but that had been exactly the swordsman's reaction: he turned around in his grip, letting out another small moan of pain when Xanxus' hand gripped harder on his crotch as an instinctive reflex, he fixed his trousers and brought himself at a safe distance. With a high and concerned, yet still trembling voice, he said: -VOI! What the fuck possessed you? Don't you ever do it again! I'm your vice, not your whore!- Xanxus smiled, anticipating a bit of good old roleplay in the “I want it, I don't want it” style, but Squalo just left his office, slamming the door at his back.

And he had been away for something like three neverending, long months.  
Xanxus had spent every single day marinating his liver in alcohol, calling people just to have an excuse to throw a tantrum, shoot his guns and throw stuff, complaining about food and blaming himself.  
And to wank again and again, thinking of the firm texture of his butt, the smell of his hair, so masculine yet so sweet, almost flowery, the taste of his skin against his tongue, a mixture of flesh and sweat with the bitter backtaste of his aftershave. And, what was worse, more often than not he found himself not only picturing a hard fuck, but making love to him, slowly, or maybe violently screwing him just to cover his hurt body afterwards and hold him close, and then wake up the morning after in the same position, his face shoved in his silver hair and his fingers tangled to his.  
Denying these very fantasies to himself, helped by the precious support of sir Rum and lady Vodka, Xanxus had gotten to the conclusion that he sadly had to contain himself. He was heartless, of course, he had all the symptoms, but he was no brain-dead: he knew too well that the Varia would fall into an abyss of chaos if Squalo had left, an abyss of disorganisation and paperwork.  
Even from a distance, while he took a a mission after the other, Squalo kept sending memos about things to be done, paperwork to fill, he sent his reports and took care of the relationships with the other Families. Everything, anyway, via Levi. After a month of complete ignorance, Xanxus had finally lowered himself to ask his Lightning Guardian if he knew shit about where Squalo was. Levi, a perplexed expression on his face, had told him everything about Squalo's third mission and his daily reports which he communicated by e-mail and phone.  
Xanxus, envious of Levi because he had had the luck to hear Squalo's voice while he didn't, had destroyed an old cabinet with a gunshot and had locked himself in his office for the rest of the day.

Now, however, the missions were over.  
Or, to say it better, Xanxus had promised a slow and painful death to everyone who would have allowed Squalo to take care of another mission.  
During a meeting when he had been only partially drunk, he had talked about tiredness, probabilities of making mistakes because of it, reputation to be kept and standards not to be lowered. In short, even if it had taken him a week and a half to put together all those excuses, he had managed to put on a quite convincing speech. The fact that he kept playing with his guns while he talked and that Bester had carried on a menacing growl were probably other reasons why his Guardians understood that this was not the case to argue.  
Even so, Squalo had managed to keep himself out of the radar for another month.

-Boss.- levi softly called from the doorstep. Xanxus chugged the remains of his tequila and replied with a grunt that invited him to speak.  
-Squalo asks to be sent back to mission.- Levi declared.  
-No.  
-But, Boss...  
-“But, Boss” my fucking ass, trash. I said that Squalo needs a pause. I have no need to lose my time filling a bunch of paperwork because that idiot got distracted and someone took his fucking head from his fucking neck.  
-He had a month long vacation, he's ready to start again.  
-The fuck are you saying?- Xanxus growled, -What vacation?  
-Uhm...- Levi hesitated, then said: -Two weeks with the Vongolas for a special training with their Rain Guardian. Then, two weeks at Cavallone Mansion.- Xanxus pictured the friendly faces of Yamamoto Takeshi and Dino Cavallone and discovered that, after all, he did have a heart.  
And also realized there was the severe risk of it breaking in his chest.  
-Out.- he commanded, in a rough throaty sound that got Levi to shiver in fear, -And if that idiot leaves the headquarters, tell him I'll catch him and slaughter him.  
-...yes, Boss.- Levi left, stepping back at the speed of sound, and Xanxus threw his empty glass against the door that had just closed behind him.  
He had gotten up to better charge the throw, and sat back again forcing himself to be slow. When he put his hands off the desk, where he had leaned without noticing, he realized that they were trembling. And his scars had enlarged again, almost to cover his whole body. He looked at his own dark, wrinkly skin, found it almost obscene in his shininess and asked himself if he really did think that Squalo could be interested in him.  
He, with his eyes as red as the fire that burnt inside him, his sadistic and egocentric attitude, his fucking sloth, by God, he who was nothing but a grown man with the brains of a rebel, vicious teenager, in a body that was already starting to surrender to the passing of time and to the calories of alcohol and red meat.  
Without knowing why he was doing so, he undressed and stared at himself in the big mirror of his personal bathroom. What he saw, he didn't like at all.  
He was covered in scars, which had expanded to the point that they were covering the quite total of his skin. His hair were starting to show some white strains, and the raccoon tail and the feathers that he always thought looked so cool to him were ridiculous, dull and probably stinky with alcohol and sweat. His shoulders were broad and strong, but his muscles were not as perfectly drawn as they had been some time before; his belly was still toned, but ample, and it didn't kept almost anything of the sensual slenderness of his late teenage. His flabby penis ticked from a bunch of almost salt-and-pepper hairs, it was scarred as well and to add some to it, even circumcised. Xanxus stopped his self judgement at his too thin thighs, to avoid losing what was left of his will to live.  
He slowly got dressed again, trying to put a little bit of care at least in it, then he gave up and fell on a sofa, his head in his hands.  
He moaned, picturing Squalo in good company with that merry butterfly who went by the name of Yamamoto Takeshi, strolling along the halls of the Vongola Headquarters, or even worse, on the streets of Namimori, maybe holding hands, maybe sharing sushi, maybe after a drink or two sharing much more else.  
His hands left his forehead and he threw the coffee table in front of him against the wall at the other side of the room, while he realized that there was a tear that was ready to hop over the barrier of his closed eyelids: he didn't fucking cry. He hadn't for ages, and he would not restart now. Most of all, not because of the red-light mental image featuring Cavallone and Squalo rolling on the floor naked. It hadn't happened, he said to himself, Cavallone was with the tonfas douchebag, he said to himself, yeah but the tonfas douchebag was far, what you don't know sure can't hurt you, oh and instead it could, it did, fuck, it hurt like fucking hell, and how he wanted to go to Squalo and ask him exactly what had he done during those three months when they had been divided, and say sorry for trying to rape him, and lie to him and to himself stating that he would have stopped at the first sign of discomfort, and why the hell was his chest hurting so much? Was it the stroke Squalo wished him everytime he saw him devour half a kilo of fillet steak all by himself? Or it was just the voice of his self loathing getting free from the chains that had been cast on it to prevent it from getting loud in the night, when the dawn's a million years afar and the lullabies are already silenced? Now that voice was talking non-stop, and it was loud, oh so loud, and Xanxus would have wanted Squalo to be there, screaming as usual, screaming and suffocating it again, shushing it just imposing his aura of perfection.  
While the voice talked, talked, talked, Xanxus realized that only Squalo's presence, and his devotion, were the only things that kept him from throwing himself in the pit of mental insanity. Seeing that perfect, fierce man sitting in front of him and acting like he was just a bit less of his peer took Xanxus at his same level of almost deity, he made him feel worthy to be the Boss of the Varia, worthy to be Xanxus.  
But, without Squalo holding his stare of fire with ice eyes, without the soothing presence of his unusual Rain Requiem, that showed up with busts of yells and cut up stuff, there was no sonic barrier to help Xanxus not to listen to the voice of his own soul.  
And Xanxus did listen.

You do realize you're a parasite, do you?  
Nothing more than a parasite.  
You don't do anything but get drunk from dawn till dust, eat expensive food and degrade your staff.  
You do that and with what's left of your time you discharge your responsibilities over anyone who is unlucky enough to be in your range of sight, when instead you should figure out how to grow some balls and take conscience of your role.  
But you don't, you are and will always be the bastard son of a weirdo suffering with greatness obsession, a scaredy cat who escaped misery just because of the good heart of a man who you should only adore for his kind soul and the pity he had given you.  
He owed you nothing at all, nor to you nor to your mother, and yet he took you with him, he fed you and educated you, he treated you as a son even knowing so well you weren't, and what have you done? You did not follow his path to become a beloved leader who fights side by side with his Guardians, you could only manage to rebel like a fucking teenager, you accepted as if you deserved it Squalo's loyalty, you accepted as if you deserved it his devotion, you let him take care of everything and then you enjoyed his success as it belonged to you.  
You became the very opposite of who the Ninth wanted you to become, and you couldn't do a bigger mistake. You should have learned to sit at the place you were assigned to, instead of going along with your superman complex, you should have remembered the sewer from which you came and keep on your mind the fact that you could be stuck back to it in no time if the wheel of fortune should one day decide to turn itself in a direction that's not keen for you.  
And here you are, now, and what are you? A weighted by his vices asshole who submits his Guardians with the dread of him instead of gaining their trust.  
You're nothing more, and you fucking well know.  
You could still get better. Squalo was helping you to build yourself back with a tremendous patience, tearing down your defences to reach your black heart and make you understand how you should act, not forcing his rhythm on you but showing you himself: naïve, maybe, on his side, to expect you to get the point.  
And maybe, you know, if you did something good since you were born, that was trying to screw him. You shoved in his face the dark junk of your soul, the deep and tarry depth of your heart, your own evilness. If he run away it's your fault, yours and yours only, and you know what? That's a good thing.  
Because a person like him doesn't deserve to be treated like a doormat.  
Superbi Squalo deserves someone who doesn't just look at him and think how good would it feel to shove it in his ass, Superbi Squalo deserves someone who would take his hand and tell him very clearly what a marvel of a creature he is, how much the mere fact of his existence is a sign that there is still hope for the world, for it to exit the mud where it went down little by little, so slowly that it went unnoticed. And you're a part of that world, and you're so used to be in the quicksand whining about this or that that you didn't even noticed that they're up to your neck.  
You'll sink, Xanxus, and you'll be the only one to blame.  
Let go of Squalo, don't carry him down with you. Just do this only act of love before dropping dead, suffocated by your own hypertrophic ego.  
And then deliver us from your cumbersome presence.  
They'll all be better without you, come on, just die already.

Xanxus sat in the ruins of his own office, without knowing how he had managed to destroy it or how much time did it take him.  
For sure, all the inhabitants of the mansion had already found shelter elsewhere, leaving him to rot and hoping that this time he would manage to end his self destruction.  
Xanxus looked at his guns, without knowing when and how he took them out, like it was the first time he saw them.  
The left one.  
The left one would have been perfect. One last tribute to Squalo, who had sacrificed his left hand to defeat the Sword Emperor and gain the title of Boss of the Varia just to hand it out to Xanxus.  
Or maybe, the right one was better? The hand that Squalo still had, that he had learned how to use even if it was his stupid one.  
Or maybe both.  
Yes, pointing both guns at his head would have minimized the chances of the bullet to recoil and not make enough damage to put an end to everything.  
Xanxus tried to raise his hands, but couldn't.  
-Now... now you put them down for me, alright? Boss...?- was that Squalo's voice? Xanxus raised his eyes. In the middle of the devastation, there stood Squalo, as pale as snow and with his long hair tied up in a loose ponytail, wearing a sweatshirt as old as the world with the “Jaws” logo and a pair of shorts that had definitively seen better days; he was kneeling in front of Xanxus and was holding his wrists.  
He was gorgeous.  
-Boss, give them to me. Please.- Squalo said, and with little to no effort he forced Xanxus' hold. He secured both guns and let them slid away on the floor to get them away.  
-I want you, scum.- Xanxus said, marvelled at his own dreamy and drunk voice when it left his mouth. Squalo blushed and let out a stunned, hurt expression, then gained back his composure: -VOI! Are you telling me you threw this hell of a tantrum for a fucking quirk? I should have left you blow your fucking brains out, baka!- he yelled, then he stood up and stepped away from Xanxus, turning his back to him.  
-Yeah, you should have.- Xanxus muttered. Squalo probably heard him, because he turned around again. Xanxus held out a hand and with the palm on the upper side: -Give me back my guns.  
-VOI! Are you batshit crazy?- Squalo blatantly sighed and kneeled back in front of Xanxus. He took his hand, but instead of putting a gun on it he pressed his palm against his.  
Xanxus stayed quiet: he had nothing more to say.  
-Boss.- Squalo eventually said, -I... I would like to tell you that you can have me. Believe me, I would. But...- his voice faded, but Xanxus didn't intervene. Squalo's fingertips softly brushed the lines on Xanxus' palm, touching his scars with no embarrassment or shame, in a caress that was almost ticklish.  
-I wouldn't be able to be satisfied with your body only.- Squalo said after a while, -I would end up to want everything.- Xanxus raised his head, but Squalo's face was shadowed by his bangs, that was really getting too long and darkened his eyes and cheeks because of the angle of his head, gracefully bent forward. Then, a huff of shady laughter escaped his lips: -Don't worry, I'm not a pervert like Lussuria. I can contain myself when you touch me. But if you do touch me... Boss, if you touch me I won't be able to stand the pain of not having you, not anymore.- silence fell.  
Squalo sat with his legs bent in front of Xanxus, still holding his hand that was now resting on his knee, always caressing it with a gentleness that seemed to be holding the delicate forming of some thought in his mind.  
And, with his light brushing, Xanxus was starting to realize what Squalo had just said. He looked at his pale fingers that were elegantly moving, forming moving shadows like the flame of a candle while he brushed his dark and scarred skin, and his scars seemed to grow smaller.  
-But I know it, deep inside,- Squalo said, -I have sworn to be by your side, so if you...  
-You already have all of me.- Xanxus interrupted him. Squalo didn't reply, and lifting his gaze the brown haired man saw that the swordsman was looking at him like he thought he was some alien clone or something.  
-I can't guarantee it will be a good thing for you.- Xanxus said, then bent forward and dared to dirty Squalo's candid perfection by putting his lips on his in a chaste kiss. When he leaned back, Squalo did not run away.  
He did not run, he did not yell, nothing.  
After what felt like a thousand years, instead, he leaned forward and slid his arms under Xanxus', encircling his torso in a goofy embrace.  
His silvery head perched on Xanxus' shoulder, his breath tickled the dimple between his collarbones and his closing eyelids slightly brushed his heartbeat in his jugular vein.  
Xanxus lifted up his hands, caressed Squalo's sides and got his shoulder, in the parody of a hug that was still everything he could manage to give him for the time being, still hurt by the scorn of the voice in his own mind.  
He would have loved to hold him close, since that very moment up until their last breath, but he was still blocked. The ice had begun to melt inside of him, in sharp delay with the one created by the Ninth, but there still were pointy edges and dark cliffs where he could fall, and he didn't want to carry Squalo down with himself, just to assist at the pitiful show of his broken, blooded body at the foot of a chilly wall.  
For now, he just let himself be hugged, in the cold evening breeze entering from the broken window, while the clouds thinned out on the full moon, showing the pale face of the satellite, so clean, so light, so cold, yet so luminous and so essential.  
Just like Squalo.

**Author's Note:**

> WOAH that was hard to write!  
> But, I admit, I liked to do it. And I mean, I liked it A LOT. I would have never dared to put Xanxus through a rejection, let alone give him some feelings that are not anger and wrath. But I was given the idea by Paulina, who I profusely thank, and as some friends of mine can tell I simply cannot backup from what I see as a challenge.  
> And this was an EXTREME challenge -quotation needed-, so I sacrificed my mental sanity (what was left of it, anyway) to give it a try.  
> Please let me know if you liked this, leave a kudos or a comment if you will, and if you have time to waste check out my long story “Out Of The Blue” for more XS hints (and B26, and RL, and 5927... not to mention the adventure that will come soon! I'm unchained XD)  
> XOXO


End file.
